Julie Claire

Oh Julie Claire was very fair,Yet generous as well,And many a lad of metal hadA saucy tale to tellOf sultry squeeze beneath the treesOr hugging in the hay . . .Of love her share had Julie ClaireWhen life was lush and gay.

And then the village wealth to pillageCame the Teuton horde;The haughty Huns with mighty gunsAnd clattering of sword.And Julie Claire had honey hairWith eyes of soft azure,So she became the favoured flameOf the Kommandatur.

But when at last the plague was past,The bloody war well won,We clipped the locks of every doxWho dallied with the Hun.Each wench with scorn was duly shorn;Our Marie the shears would weld,And Julie's head with ringlets shedWas like a turnip peeled.

But of these days of wanton waysNo more the village talks,For Julie Claire has wed the MarieWho clipped her golden locks . . .Nay, do not try to me IMust suffer for my sins,For all agree the Marie must beThe father of her twins.